Bruits de la Trumpette et Saxaphone

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A story of two jazz players who find theirselves without a band but still play with their love and eachother.

Bruitts de la Trompette et Saxaphone

By: Andrew Eason

The back alleys as usual were dim and gray. Dogs, cats, and rats chased each other along the sides as people mainly mobsters strolled through taking care of business. The times were generally spent in clubs or at the job, if you had one. A lot of people seemed to get carried away on drinks and lost dreams. Not to much happened in the Big Apple, well except the murders from the locals mobsters.

The clubs generally were slumped in with blues, and jazz. Most preferred the jazz, as did I. Every night we would enter the club looking for a woman, or a drink. My time was spent on drinks, or playing the trumpet.

I have loved the trumpet ever since I was little, until I was in 9th grade I wasn't to good, but I practiced all the same and got better. Now I play in local clubs playing with my eight set band. Bonnie on drums, Larry on alto sax, Christen on the trombone, Chad on the Barry sax, Dan on the base, Lisa on the soprano sax, and I on the trumpet.

Every weekend at Ray Ray's Bar, we would play for about an hour, and get paid. Bonnie would rock the drums, Larry on the alto, Dan on the base followed by Chad and Christen. Lisa and I would jet in with a solo or two, some called it singing as we played, and I considered it my life. My soul poured into that instrument, as did Lisa's. We would play on Sundays for hours having fun, generally the rest of the crew would join up for a little fun. Good times, good times.

Something was wrong with Dan one Sunday, no body really knew why. He would sweat constantly, always checked behind him, and always locked the doors. We thought that a few of the mob was out to get him so we told him to go to the police, naturally he didn't listen in fear of them waiting for him there. We decided to let it fly on by hoping it would get better, but it didn't.

A few weeks later Dan's body was found shot seven times. After awhile you begin to understand what things met with the amount of shots fired. Seven just so happened to be debt. Apparently Dan had hired the guys to do a drive buy, but didn't pay up.

The crew and I were shocked from the news but not devastated. Dan was a good friend, but no one could really trust him sowe chose not to get to close to him. The challenge now was finding a new bassist before Friday, the next day.

We put out a search for a bassist, but came up short. No one, not a single person showed. Eventually all but Lisa and I were there. We figured we would do like we did on Sundays: without a bassist, without a drummer, and without all the support.

We stood on the stage looking at each other; apparently she wanted me to start. I was a little nervous, for I have never actually improvised in front of anyone other than Lisa.

Well I started off working my way high. Breaking off from the high notes she came in as elegant as ever. Her hair seemed to sway with her movements; I broke back in and began to sway with the music. Someone later told me that it was as if we were dancing on air, our love so sincerely clear.

Submitted: July 11, 2007

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